The SheWolf of Atlantis
by Jersey13
Summary: Laura Cadman has decided to take Kate Heightmeyer's advice to start keeping a journal. She has a secret that's difficult to hide sometimes, and Carson does his best to help. Read all about it as she writes of her life. Beckett
1. The SheWolf of Atlantis

TITLE: The She-Wolf of Atlantis

AUTHOR: Jersey13

RATING: T (for some mild violence and suggestive wording)

DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis is copyrighted by MGM and the Sci-fi channel, and no infringement was intended. This was written purely for the sake of enjoyment, and was not written for profit or monetary gain.

SUMMARY: Laura Cadman has decided to take Kate Heightmeyer's advice to start keeping a journal. She has a secret that's difficult to hide sometimes, and Carson does his best to help. Read all about it as she writes of her life.

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A/N: I'm currently suffering from a terrible bout of writer's block with The Emerald Wanderer, I'm afraid. So in the meantime, I came up with this little gem of an idea as I began to re-watch some of my favorite early-90's TV shows...

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Name: Cadman, Lt. Laura  
Date: 2006, January 16, 0923 hours

There's nothing quite like waking up to the sound of a fighter jet screaming over the roof of your house, with afterburners on full, to wake you up in the morning. It's difficult for me to wake up in the mornings sometimes without that sound. You see, I grew up a navy brat: my father flew F-14 fighter jets in the US Navy, and my family lived in a house not even a mile from the base where he worked. So quite often, most mornings in fact, I'd be waking up to the sound of F-14 fighter jets flying in a box pattern over my house. You get used to it after a while, but my mother couldn't stand it.

She and my father divorced when I was still quite young, but I won't bore you with all the little details concerning my childhood without a mother. My father always took good care of me and my younger brother. I'm Lieutenant Laura Cadman. You see that? I actually spelled 'Lieutenant' correctly. It took me forever to learn how to spell my own rank properly after I managed to achieve it, which I'm sorry to say embarrassed me quite a bit in front of my commanding officer back on Earth.

But chemistry has always been the stronger area of expertise for me, and it somehow led me to become the explosives expert that I studied so hard to become. Dad had at first asked me if I was going to enlist in the Navy or go to the academy, and he was disappointed in me when I chose to enlist in the Marines instead. But when I received a copy of my Letter of Recommendation for OCS (that's Officer Candidates School for those of you who don't know), he was very proud of me. But I could never have dreamed that becoming an officer would enable me to see another galaxy, or somehow manage to put me in a position like the one I'm in now.

Poor Carson… He's lying there in the bed next to me as I'm typing up this journal entry, and I'd like nothing more than to kiss him, but I'm afraid to do it. It could cause… unpleasant things to happen to me, not to mention him. Well, this is just great. I'm doing it again. Am I being too subtle? I'm sorry. Kate Heightmeyer encouraged me to take up writing in my journal so that I could come to terms with myself and my 'condition', and now what do I end up doing? I'm being subtle again. I suppose it's a form of denial, but I guess I do it because it's a way to distance myself from everything that's happened, which I probably shouldn't be doing.

So here goes… complete honesty, no denial, and no more subtlety. I'm a werewolf.

I guess that wasn't really so hard. Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, it was. I hate being a werewolf. I'm dating the best doctor in two galaxies, whose name just happens to be Carson Beckett, and he has no idea how to cure me. How ironic is that? And does he love me because I'm a she-wolf, or despite that fact? He seems too sweet and lovable to be sure most times. And I swear that if I ever catch Carson reading this thing, I'll kill him.

All homicidal tendencies aside, though, my only real regret these days about being a werewolf is that I seem to have so little control over myself when it happens. I feel awful about what I did to his back last week; I can still see the leftover scars that the claw-marks caused. I really hope that Dr. Biro doesn't notice them when she gives him his next monthly physical that's due toward the end of this week. That would be really embarrassing.

Carson treats me so nicely, and I really hate feeling like I've mistreated him, even if it's not really my fault. I know how much it pains him to have to chain me up in shackles in a secluded and secure place a few nights a month so that I don't hurt anyone. It took a while to be able to recognize the signs of my transformation, too. It doesn't seem follow Earth's lunar cycle, nor the lunar cycles of the planet Atlantis is based on, nor any planet's lunar cycle, for that matter. That and, for a while, it was difficult for me to recognize the sensation that ensued when my transformation was beginning.

There have been a couple of times now that I failed to recognize that sensation, which I can't really describe with words, and Carson had been caught in the position of trying to drag a screaming woman delirious with pain and carnal, primal urges down into a hidden compartment connected to his quarters in Atlantis. But every one of those mornings afterward, I wake up (naked, usually) to the gentle caress of his fingers on my cheek and a tender kiss on my lips, and it _almost_ makes up for all the pain I had suffered through the night before.

He had tried gene therapy on me, antibiotics, drugs, herbs, and any number of ideas he could come up with in an attempt to keep my transformation at bay. But only one thing had ever prevented it, and that was when I had hit my head on an off-world mission, and had been rendered unconscious for most of the night. That poor man; he'd worried about me so much that night. I've suggested to him that maybe he could start drugging me on the nights when I expect my transformation, but he had said something about my developing an eventual tolerance for the drug, and that side-effects could be a problem over the long-term. And so, I expect that tonight I will have to suffer again.

We haven't dared to tell anyone about my condition except Kate, and as my friend and psychologist, she keeps my secret in confidence. Even she seems to think that it could very well be just a psychological disturbance of mine, and I don't like to talk about it with her. I certainly won't be letting her read this, that's for sure. And, of course, everybody else who might have suspected something was up likely just thinks that we have an overly active and kinky sex life. Carson and I do tend to give that impression sometimes, I suppose.

Nobody else even suspects that I could be a werewolf, or rather, what passes for a werewolf in the Pegasus galaxy. Carson tells me that I don't really look all that wolf-like when I transform, but I do get the classic super-strength, claws, fur, and fangs. Considering this, only God knows what I'd end up doing to him in my transformed state if he ever failed to get me chained up in time. That very first transformation after I had been bitten had certainly caught us both by surprise. I had apparently ended up running about through the more deserted areas of the city, thank goodness, dodging noise complaints and Carson running around searching for me, only to wake up naked and curled up in a corner on a balcony somewhere.

Carson had bundled me up in a sheet and carried me to a secluded room in the infirmary to examine me very early in the morning so that no one would question us. I think Dr. Biro might have seen us, though, and although I couldn't quite hear what he had said to her, I think it might've been something along the lines of "Don't mind us; we're just playin' doctor," because her eyes widened with shock and she very quickly and very quietly left us to our privacy. No one bothered us after that.

I think that was one of those days that I'd rather forget, personally. I felt weak and out of control, and I really don't like feeling that way. It always made me feel better knowing that even if I don't have control over where life takes me, that I always have control over what I do with my life. I can control how late I allow myself to sleep, I can control how often I exercise, and I can control who I include in my life. But when I transform, all of that is gone, and I have absolutely no control over anything. Carson even tried to help teach me some bio-feedback techniques, and wow! (This is all sarcasm, by the way, if you haven't guessed by now.) I've extended the amount of time I can hold back my transformation from thirty seconds all the way up to an all-time record of fourteen minutes!

I suppose fourteen minutes is an adequate amount of time to get a werewolf properly chained up and secure, but I still feel like a failure. I'm a Marine and an officer in the United States Marine Corps, for pity's sake. I should be stronger than that.

But Carson just smiles at me in that way when it happens, smiling in that way that always makes my stomach do flip-flops and makes my heart flutter, holding me tightly and encouraging me to hold on a little longer each time. I honestly don't know where I'd be without him. He is far too good to me, much better than I deserve. I really want to give him that kiss, but my hands are still trembling with fear. What the hell is wrong with me? It's just a kiss, damn it!

Oh, hell. I have to get past this sooner or later. I can't allow this stop me from kissing him any time I want to just because I'm afraid that it's going to make me transform and I'll end up _accidentally_ clawing him to shreds. I should have more faith in myself and my self-control. I can do this.

Well, if we don't make it through this, I'll make sure I post something nice here for my court martial. Someone will likely find this and end up using its contents against me during my trial for murder.

Anyway, in other news, I've got another appointment with Kate this afternoon. We'll see what she has to say today. Hopefully she won't ask to read this.


	2. Distractions Abound

A/N: Yeah, this is short, but I've decided that I want to do just one entry per chapter. The short length of this entry just means that I'll probably be posting a third entry later on today.

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Name:Cadman, Lt. Laura  
Date:2006, January 16, 2246 hours

Well, I didn't accidentally kill Carson today, at least, but I did end up transforming. Damn it! Why did he have to do that? He knows what happens to me when he does that! I suppose I should have known. I leaned down to give him a little kiss on the forehead, and what happens? He stirred, woke, pulled me down on top of him, and was then insistent on kissing me passionately. Not that I didn't enjoy it, because I did immensely.

But it caused me to transform… again. I have no idea why, but every time I start to feel 'excited', for lack of a better and more appropriate word, that always seems to happen. In about thirty minutes or so from now, I expect to transform into a raving lunatic of a monster. Carson told me that he'd be here to take care of me when we met for lunch, so he must still be in the infirmary taking care of business. I know he's reliable and attentive, and he's always there for me when I need him, but sometimes I can't help getting worried. I guess it's because I just hate feeling like I'm a burden on him, and I hate having to rely on other people like this.

It's my own fault, I suppose. I was careless and stupid on that afternoon that I was bitten back in September. It had been a pretty good day up until my team went off-world with Colonel Sheppard's team. If it hadn't been me that was bitten, it would've been Rodney, so I guess I did something right. That planet was supposed to be uninhabited, and my team had really only been sent to help out with unloading and setting up all the equipment.

Rodney was mouthy, as usual. I think he might've been nervous about being assigned to a group with me, only instead of being grouped with Carson, who had not gone off-world with us, Colonel Sheppard himself had decided to accompany us. But really, why he should be so nervous about being in a group with me was beyond me. Just over seven months earlier, I had accidentally been trapped in his body because of a malfunctioning Wraith culling beam. So what? What was the big deal? Being placed in a group with me again isn't necessarily a bad omen.

Or could it have been a bad omen after all? I mean, that mission didn't exactly go well, either, being that I saved McKay's ass from a slavering, hungry werewolf monster and got bitten in the process. That moron should have been grateful, but did I ever even get a 'thank you for saving my life' from him? Hell no, of course not.

Not that the people whose lives I save are required to thank me for it; it is my job, after all. But if I see that ungrateful and self-righteous smirk on Rodney McKay's face one more time, I'll… I'll…

Never mind.

My appointment with Kate didn't go very well this afternoon. She kept asking me all these scary questions, like if I thought that my transformations could be unreasonably hazardous to the city's population or if I thought that my transformation cycle was stable enough to remain relatively predictable. Carson's appointment had been yesterday, and I'm thinking that something he'd said scared her. I have to admit that today's session has left me wondering if she could be pondering sending me back to Earth to some kind of institution, and perhaps try to justify this by claiming that she's concerned for my own safety, or if she really is trying to help me deal with all of this.

I think if I was forced to go back to Earth with this condition, especially if I had to go without Carson, it would literally break me. I'm starting to regret that I told Kate about any of this at all. She just doesn't seem to understand that I'm doing the best that I can with this, and that without Carson here to help me, I don't know if I could go on like this. I don't know if I'd even want to.

The door to my quarters just opened, and now Carson is sitting at the foot of my bed looking at me with that wonderful smile of his, waiting for me to finish writing. I suppose I should finish this up quickly, then, although I haven't begun to experience the precursor to my eventual transformation tonight quite yet.

Wait a minute. He's rubbing my feet now. Oh, that man and his wonderful hands… I'm sorry. I should probably write more, but I have to stop now or else Carson is going to see what I've written in a few seconds when I drop my laptop.


	3. A Perfectly Normal Tuesday

A/N: Another short-but-sweet entry in Laura's journal. Sorry it's taken so long. :)

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Name: Cadman, Lt. Laura  
Date: 2006, January 17, 1508 hours 

I hate Mondays. My body was never designed to be forced to wake up at 5am, and no matter how hard I try to get out having to work those 7am duty shifts, I just can't seem to escape them. It's not just the bother of having to wake up early, but of course I couldn't sleep until quite late last night because of my transformation. I woke up to the sound of Carson unlocking the compartment at 5am this morning. I was covered in bruises, and every muscle in my entire body hurt. Now, I don't mean that it hurt as in I was tired; I mean hurt as in every single one of my major muscle groups have a pulled muscle, and not only does it hurt to stand up or walk around, it hurt just move at all.

And, of course, Carson was quiet and supportive as usual, offering his customary caress and kisses, and even offered me a donut for breakfast this morning. I could hardly eat more than a couple of bites of it, though. I was in far too much pain to eat much, but the hot shower did help a little bit. Carson was very helpful in that regard, too. He… erm… scrubbed my back for me. Yeah, that's it, scrubbed my back.

But at least today isn't Monday any more. It's now Tuesday, and Tuesday is a much better day of the week than Monday… isn't it? There's no mission planning meeting to go to on Tuesdays, or any other day of the week for that matter, like there is on Mondays. I don't have to choose between a disgusting salisbury steak and a greasy slice of mushroom-topped pizza on Tuesdays. And I certainly don't have to find a way to make do without Ladies' Poker Night on Tuesdays like I am forced to on Mondays.

It's just unfortunate that I'm going to have to leave the girls early tonight because, if I don't, I'd probably end up murdering someone when I transform. I suppose I can feign a stomach illness… again… and have an excuse to find Carson. It's a wonder nobody suspects I'm pregnant.

Which reminds me… Carson should be getting back from his off-world mission in a couple of hours. It's just another one of those backwater worlds with lots of rain and no concept of medicine, but you know him. He has to save all those wee babies, and sure, those lads and lassies sure need him. But I need him, too.

I keep thinking about where I'd be without him, and honestly, I really don't know. Dead perhaps? Somebody would've shot and killed me by now, likely Colonel Sheppard himself. Or I could've been medicated and straight-jacketed in some white, padded room back on Earth. Not exactly ideas I like to contemplate, really, but it makes me glad to be with Carson, with someone who cares for and loves me like he does. Without him, my life wouldn't mean much right now.

I hope he knows how much I love him.

In the meantime, I'd better get back to work and finish my shift. I had a late lunch… very late. But since I won't get to see Carson until fairly late tonight anyway, I should manage alright until he brings me breakfast tomorrow. Could it be that I'm actually looking forward to it?


	4. God Help Me

A/N: Laura's in some trouble now.

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Name: Cadman, Lt. Laura  
Date: 2006, January 19, 0902 hours 

Yesterday was horrible. The evening before was even worse. Carson didn't get back from his mission when he said he would. Apparently, Colonel Sheppard's team ran into some trouble off world and had to hole up while the Wraith passed them by. They'd hidden in some caves for about 12 hours or so, and by the time they and the few villagers they could save felt safe enough to come out to see if the coast was clear, everything was gone.

Carson's work had been utterly wasted. Every single man, woman, and child he had so dilligently treated the previous day was either missing or had been turned into a shriveled up husk and left to rot where they had lain. It took a heavy toll on him, but not as much as it had taken from him to see me today.

When he didn't get back in time, my transformation just wasn't about to wait for him. I tried to lock myself away, but I wasn't able to properly chain myself after it began. I ended up breaking the lock on the door and escaping just over an hour afterward. I don't really remember a lot of what happened after that, but I was told that I went a little nuts in the mess hall. And I'm really grateful that Colonel Sheppard decided to use the Wraith stunners instead of his customary P90. If he hadn't… Well, I probably shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

I'm eerily calm right now for some reason, though. I'm not upset or angry or even confused; just kind of spaced out, really. Everyone knows about my transformations now. Everyone knows now why I disappear every three weeks or so for three days, and everyone knows now why only Carson could ever find me at those times. And at this very moment, I'm sitting in a security cell in one of the lower levels. This might even be the same cell that they'd kept that starved Wraith a couple of years back… I'm not quite sure.

But I'm absolutely positive now that they're planning to ship me back home. Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard weren't afraid of me as much as they were afraid for me, though. 'This really isn't a good place for you any more,' Elizabeth had said. 'Don't worry, Lieutenant. They'll take good care of you back at the SGC,' Colonel Sheppard had said.

And I'd said nothing.

They knew I didn't want to go. For the longest time now, Carson has been so good to me, and he's taken care of me. But he's the chief medical officer here on Atlantis. There's no way they'd let him come with me for more than a couple of weeks at most. He has far too much work to do here, helping people with a much better prognosis than I.

What terrifies me the most now, though, is the thought that no one will ever trust me again. I turn into a vicious creature with fangs and claws that could kill someone without a second thought. Would I kill someone in my transformed state, given the chance? I honestly have no idea, but that obviously doesn't change the fact that I'm still dangerous. The snack food kiosks and soda fountain dispensers in the mess tremble in fear before my power.

All I really want is Carson. Is that so much to ask? They won't even let him visit with me, and they explain their callousness with some claim that his presence has caused me to transform before. It's true to an extent, I suppose, but still… Having his arms around me is the only way I'm going to feel better right now. I want to hear him tell me in that soft, Scottish brogue of his that everything is going to be alright, and that I'll always be his wee lovely lassie.

I've got to pull myself together. I'm a US Marine, a soldier, and a trained scientist. I can't let this beat me. I can't lose it in this place. I have to hold onto some hope that Carson will find a way to cure or help me somehow before it's too late, before they ship me out for good or end up killing me in order to protect the sanctity of the food stores.

Please… God, help me.


End file.
